


Trespassing

by Francis_SinBin



Series: Fest, exchanges, etc. [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunk Sex, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Francis_SinBin/pseuds/Francis_SinBin
Summary: Based on the prompt for a "moody" meeting in Snape's hometown during their late teens/early twenties.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Series: Fest, exchanges, etc. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098908
Comments: 16
Kudos: 43
Collections: BlackPrince Secret Santa Gift Exchange 2020





	Trespassing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TowardTheStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TowardTheStars/gifts).



Sirius pulls the cloak tighter around himself as he squeezes in between two rows of houses. It was hardly an alley, more of just a place for rainwater to fall and accumulate until it could get to a drain. Once he steps out from the tight passage he looks up and down the street before going right, then left when the numbers hit the high three's. He uses the street lamps to look at the ink on his hand, trying to match the numbers to each door he passes. When he finally arrives at the row of homes Evans' door number is on he drags the cloak up. It covers his body from the back with how he holds it but reveals his face and most of his body from the front as he goes to knock on the door. He doesn't think Mr. and Mrs. Evans will answer the door if they can't see anyone. 

From what he's heard from Lily it would likely be ignored and if the knocking continued with no one appearing it might even result in the police being called. That's the last thing he needed. This was just supposed to be quick. Sirius knocks and waits a few minutes. The curtains in the window next to the door move aside to show a sliver of a face. He turns to be seen more clearly and smiles. Mrs. Evans' face matches his before she disappears from sight. A minute later and the door opens. Mr. Evans is with her, standing at her side with an arm around her. She clutches an obviously worn and well-loved photo album bound in synthetic leather. 

"Sorry, I can't stay long. No one can see me here or they may think you know something..." He grabs the album and sticks it under his arm against his chest. He'll spell it small when he isn't in their sights. "You should leave soon. Staying for much longer is just asking for someone to come asking questions-." Before he can continue talking, the same warning everyone has given them dozens of times by now, he's interrupted by Mr. Evans as his wife shakes her head. "We won't. This is our home. We'll stay until we can't, when it's burned down or we're dead. We have letters in the book. Give them to her. Please." 

Sirius nods and fumbles with the cloak to get a hand into his pocket. "It may be a little crinkled, but Lily wanted you to see him. I can't let you keep it, though. I'm sorry." 

The two step closer and Mr. Evans inhales sharply, Mrs. Evans chokes on a small sob as she covers her mouth. Her voice comes through slightly muffled. "He's so beautiful. His father's hair already..." Mr. Evans continues when his wife can't keep talking anymore as she turns her face into his chest. "And Lily's eyes... Thank you. Tell her he's beautiful and we can't wait to meet him one day."

"I will. I must go. Stay inside as much as you can. Don't talk to anyone. Don't trust anyone." They're nodding as he pulls the cloak back over himself properly. He leaves the opposite way he came; in case someone saw him, in case someone may be waiting back the other way. The playground he sees in the distance acts as a marker. Lily said the otherside was still Cokesworth, that he could get to an apparation point if he went that way and then circled around at the pub on that side of town. Honestly, he may drop in for a drink. He could use it. 

The distraction would be welcome to the doubts and thoughts that the Evans may never meet their grandson. They may never see their daughter again. They weren't safe there. It's only a matter of time before someone comes looking for the Evans. They've been lucky. It's why Lily sent him to get the album. She feared the worst despite how she may act around everyone. She couldn't be honest with James. He already had so much to worry about. They all did. But she turned to him. Not because he was some great confidant. Although, he thought he was. She turned to him because he didn't ask questions. If she needed something he got it for her and he didn't try to talk to her about if it was important or if it was a necessity. 

He pulls the cloak tighter to his body as a brisk breeze sweeps through the playground. The leaves that litter the ground around the large tree off to the far side tumble and swirl across the ground. He's careful to not interrupt any bunches that may show where he's at. The passage through the playground is a lot of speeding up and slowing down to not be caught with leaves against him or step into muddy puddles where the grass had been worn away. A quick drink would be fine. Something to make it so he can smile when he gets back to Lily and James. It's already too late to see Harri. He will be asleep by now; unaware of all the shit in the world. At least, for now. 

When he's older maybe he'll be joining Sirius for a drink and reminiscing about everything that's shit and unfair in life. But Sirius also hopes that's not the case. He doesn't want Harri to grow up cynical or with any of their -his or James or Remus's- worst traits. If he had it his way Harri would never touch a bottle. He can't count how many times he's been helped to his flat after drinking too much. It was easy to refrain from drinking but once he started it was hard to stop. He just wanted to forget about everything, forget about himself. To fall into the easy haze of just _being_. It was almost as simple as being padfoot. There were no cares. 

He steps beside the pub to shrink and ward the photo album before securing it into the inside pocket of his jacket. Next, the cloak follows the same treatment. Just a quick drink. Just one. It's a repeating mantra as he pushes the door open. He's blasted by a surprisingly loud and boisterous crowd inside. The door had blocked out most of the sound from the outside which made it seem like the pub was subdued. His lips pull into a grin, so he doesn't seem out of place and he quickly moves to the bar. The bartender turns to him and raises his chin in acknowledgement. "Whiskey! Biggest glass!" He shouts to be heard and is relieved when the bartender nods and turns to the shelves behind him. 

"What are **you** doing here, Black?" The voice dripping with venom can only belong to one person. He turned to look to the person beside him, who had been sitting with his head bowed over a glass in a coat that seemed twice as wide as it needed to be. And as if it's seen better days. Just his luck. Lily said he didn't live in town any longer. Not since she heard his father kicked him out as soon as he turned seventeen after his mum died. It was gossip she heard from Petunia of all people who heard it from someone who heard it from a friend of a friend. 

"What are you doing here?" He counters back with his hand flexing slightly, so his wand starts to slip from it's holster on his wrist inside his jacket. If Snape was here to spy on the Evans he'd have to take care of him now and beg forgiveness from Dumbledore later. Not that any of them knew for sure that Snape was a death eater. But what else would he be, the stupid slimy git. A sudden glass being placed harshly on the bar top makes him look away. The bartender stands with a stern look, one hand still around the glass he set down and the other holding something out of view under the bar. "We got a problem?"

"Piss off, Ralph. Mckernan looks like he's about to keel over. You'd be more useful dealing with that piece of shit compared to this one." Snape's voice holds a different accent from the one he heard at school, one he vaguely remembers hearing during first year. The little shit tried so hard to fit in with his house and started sounding like them, trying to walk like them. But he wasn't. Sirius hated how much Snape tried to be like those purist snots. But here. Here he doesn't sound like them. He sounds like the bartender and half the bar from what he can catch from conversations filtering their way over the noise. He doesn't know if it makes Snape sound better or worse. Everything about him is fake. Ralph sneers and he almost wonders if that's who Snape learned it from, if it weren't for the fact he doubts Ralph would have let him in at eleven or any age under eighteen. There's some vague memories of overhearing some gossip about Snape's father being a drunk and his mum a whore. He doesn't care to think about it, though. The last thing he needed was an image of a smaller, just as unpleasant Snape coming by to drag his drunk father home. 

Before he can let his mind wander more he shifts back to stare at the shelves of alcohol directly across from the bar seats. He picks up the glass and brings it to his lips. The whiskey burns and tastes like shit. He swallows it back and goes for another sip. The taste is still the same but it's easy to ignore with each swallow. His eyes glance at Snape and he's back to leaning over his drink. It's then that he realizes Snape's eyes aren't as clear as he's used to seeing them. He's already sloshed from the looks of it. And the clothes, now that he looks more closely, make him think he's just been to a funeral. He doesn't ask about it, though. He's not keen on hearing any story from Snape and he doubts Snape would want to tell him. 

Not that he'll let Snape just wander around Cokesworth. He still needs to know why he's here. As much as he thinks it's inevitable that the Evans will be caught in the crossfire it doesn't mean he wants to see it happen sooner than it should if he can stop it by just staying a bit longer in the dreary town. They drink in silence and Sirius is sure he's the only one tense by his drinking partner. About twenty or thirty minutes later, Snape finally finishes his third glass that he's had since Sirius sat down. He stands and stumbles for a moment. Ralph sneers from across the bar. But it seems more sad than disgusted somehow. Maybe Sirius has drank too much himself. Looking at the bar top shows he's matched Snape drink for drink without realizing it. 

Snape moves away from the bar to leave and Sirius quickly signals to the bartender while his back is turned that he's ready to pay. He waits until Ralph comes over and slips just the tip of his wand out to confuse him. It wasn't like he carried muggle money on him and he wasn't going to leave wizard money with the bartender. If luck has it, the extra glasses will be added to Snape's tab. And he has to have a tab because he didn't see him pay either. The thought of Snape being charged for his drinks fills him with some glee as he leaves the pub less than a minute after Snape stepped out. He fears at first that Snape possibly apparated away until he squints to see that he's walking towards the row of unlit homes away from the pub. From what Sirius can see there are no street lamps to light the way and the faint light from the pub hardly is enough to illuminate even the main street. He quiets the sound of his feet with a renewed muffling charm and walks quickly to cover some of the distance between them. A quick look to the houses and fences show most of them are definitely worse off than the row of houses the Evans lived in. These homes were more narrow with even less of a front yard. Planks of wood on the fences were missing or rotting away. Few houses had lights on at this time. None of the homes from what he could see even had an outside light like the Evans' had had. Small things like that shouldn't have mattered but it added to the gloomy look of this part of town. Sirius didn't know what residential area had a pub within walking distance. 

But perhaps, he's been spoiled on wizarding communities. Where pubs didn't have to be close for you to go to them. Snape stumbles at one point and grabs on to the fence next to him. Sirius stops, silent as he watches. He can hear Snape inhale with how quiet the area is. When Snape begins to walk once more, he picks up his former pace again. A few minutes and Snape stops to turn to open the gate of one home and he turns his head to look directly at Sirius. That's when Sirius realizes he never slipped the invisibility cloak back on like he should have. The thought hadn't crossed his mind and yet he still acted as if he was wearing it. He definitely had a few drinks too many. They stare at each other and it's an odd sight not seeing a sneer or even a frown directed at him. The face looking towards him is blank, devoid of any emotion. Snape still says nothing when he looks away to walk the short distance to the doorstep and let himself into the house. 

The door closes behind him, but Sirius finds his feet carrying him forward until he's in front of the same door. His hand rests on the doorknob and he starts to tentatively turn the handle. He's surprised when the door clicks open and he takes it as an invitation to walk in. Because surely Snape would have locked the door if he didn't want him inside the home? Did Snape move back? Did he move back to keep an eye on the Evans? This could be a trap and he could have walked right into it. Or he could just get rid of Snape and they'd never have to worry about if he was a death eater or not. 

He closes the door slowly until it softly clicks shut. When he ventures further down the hall, a tight squeeze beside a narrow staircase that stands directly in front of the front door, he finds an archway that brings him into a long narrow den. The fireplace is lit but the place has dust and remnants of newspapers and empty bottles over almost every surface. A chair sits near the fireplace. Obviously, well worn and stained to hell and back with whatever contents had been in the bottles. The place held an oppressive, stifling air to it. He steps back into the hall and opens the door at the end of the hallway. A dingy kitchen is in a worse state with peeling wallpaper and a cupboard door that's missing. Still no sign of Snape. He hadn't thought the bastard had enough time to go upstairs but he must have. From the looks of it there were no other rooms downstairs. 

The steps creek with every movement and he winces. It sounds loud in the quiet of the house. At the top of the stairs he finds the door to a loo open and a door cracked to a bedroom obviously meant for two despite it's small size. There's two more doors. One open and one closed. The open one just leads to a separate room for the bathtub and Snape isn't there, so it only leaves one place left. He slips his wand from his holster and holds it tight in his hand as he opens the closed door; it thuds lightly against the wall as he stands dumbly in the doorway. 

There's no trap, no fight- all the adrenaline he had been building up in preparation leaves him feeling antsy. His skin feels like too much. Snape it's sitting on a bare single bed with his back against the wall and his long legs stretched out over the edge of the bed, his feet slightly spread apart with his hands in his lap and his eyes closed. They open and his head shifts to face him slightly. That's when he notices the jacket from before has been tossed over a desk with a broken off leg -the leg replaced with bricks to keep it level- and the first few buttons of his shirt were open. He tentatively steps into the room but when no scathing word comes at him about invading a space that should be making Snape flush with shame at someone seeing his old room he drops his hips with each step, a slight saunter. "Waiting up for me, Snivey?"

"Not if you talk like that."

It's almost odd hearing his voice after hardly running into him in the two years since graduation. Sirius shrugs off his jacket and lays it beside Snape's before slipping his wand back into its holster. The room is narrow enough that even with him standing beside the desk Snape's feet could easily knock his own feet out from under him.

"Is there a reason you were following me, Black?"

"I don't know. Is there a reason you're sitting in your ratty ass old room?" That gets a slight twitch of Snape's eye, but it's still not anywhere near the usual fight he's used to seeing in them. He doesn't like seeing them so blank. It's not natural.

"If I knew you were this hard up for money maybe I should have suggested you take up your mum's profession. You might not be much to look at," which didn't really matter once Snape's voice dropped fourth year and suddenly most people found themselves able to overlook a lot of his faults from what Sirius overheard, "but neither was your mum and she still had people calling."

The last word is barely out of his mouth before Snape is surging up and he's being shoved backwards. But he thinks about the album tucked away in his jacket and doesn't want to risk falling on it and shoves back. He brings his fist up into an undercut and meets Snape's ribs. There's no crunch or cracking sound since they're too close for him to get momentum but there is a satisfying grunt and groan. As he hits him again he brings his knee up into the side of one of Snape's. Snape falls back onto the bed, his head smacking the wall as his hand smacks out beside him as if to catch himself. The hatred he's so used to seeing is finally starting to filter in back to Snape's eyes. He grins down at him. The leg knocking his legs out from under him makes Sirius shout as he barely catches himself to avoid the knee coming towards his face. His arm is able to block that but he quickly moves up to not wait around for another attempt. Sirius reaches out to grab Snape's hair and yanks him back by it until his head knocks against the wall again. The groan of pain slipping from those thin lips is even more delightful than before and Sirius can't help but to smirk and press close. Snape's eyes have a small glassy look to them, "You good there, princess? Or do you need a little break- too much for you?" 

He's too busy mocking him to see the fist coming up until it clips his cheek and he falls sideways from Snape's lap. The wind leaves him in a rush as he lands on the bed. Suddenly, Sirius is the one being pressed down onto the bed with Snape's weight above him; which isn't much but the hand on his throat keeps him in place. Snape shifts above him until he's straddling his hips and leans down, his hand slowly tightening as he does. 

"Not another word about my mother should leave your mouth, Black."

His face feels warm from the adrenaline rushing through him, from the hand tight on his throat, and the weight on top of him. Mortifyingly, but not that surprising considering the position he's in, he can feel his cock hardening in a rush under Snape's arse. The moment Snape notices is visible. His eyebrows furrow together as his lips purse the slightest bit and his eyes look to the side in thought. Then, the eyes look back at him. His fingers flex before his hand grows tighter. Sirius gasps as his hips push up and a shudder wrecks through his body.

Snape releases an exhalation of air that almost sounds like a laugh. The hand on his throat slides down his chest and presses down on his sternum. His hands lay on the bed useless as Snape shifts further up to straddle his chest, his knees shoved underneath his arms. When the hand returns to his throat he feels less choked than when it was gone. 

"You're pathetic, Black." The words from Snape's lips hardly register as he watches him undo his belt, then the button of his trousers before pulling his zipper down. His mouth goes dry as his eyes dilate and his hands rest on Snape's thighs for lack of anywhere else to go. It's only then that he realizes with how Snape is positioned that he can't reach down to even grab himself through his own trousers. He feels Snape's thighs tense under his hands but they're not batted away. Instead, Snape pulls his half-hard cock out of his pants. 

Sirius gets the pleasure of having a front-row seat to watching Snape's cock harden before his eyes. He had seen it briefly, flaccid just that once; Snape hanging upside down as his pants were pulled off just before Slughorn showed up. It's nothing compared to now. The head of it is flushed red and has already started to drip pre-cum as Snape strokes himself above his face. Drops land on his cheek to slide down the side of his face. One or two land on his lips and he has to force himself not to lick them clean. His own cock throbs with each flex of the hand around his throat. Snape hardly makes a sound above him. Only the barest pants of breath can be heard over the sound of his slick hand stroking his cock. 

The hand shifts on his throat as some of Snape's weight raises off his chest as he starts to thrust into his hand. A thumb presses harshly into his neck. He wheezes out a breath, arousal and panic, that makes Snape look to meet his eyes. The pressure on his throat is eased and he sucks in a greedy breath of air before licking his lips. Sirius tastes the salty bitterness of pre-cum only a moment before he hears a strangled noise that he only just registers as coming from Snape. Not a second later cum lands on his cheek and he quickly closes his eyes as more strips of cum covers his face. Opening his eyes he's graced with the sight of Snape panting heavily with his own eyes closed in rapture with a hand held tight around his slowly softening cock. He licks his lips again as he feels some cum slide down near the corner of his lips. 

The hand around Snape's cock let's go as his body shifts back and then off of him. His throat almost seems to close as he watches him start to tuck himself away again. The insistent throbbing in his trousers is too noticeable to him now and he can't ignore it for any longer. Sirius sits up and moves quickly to grab at Snape, manhandling him onto the bed and under him. He gets a knee to his stomach and an elbow clipping his jaw for his troubles. But at the end of it he has Snape under him and he wastes no time in grabbing the waistband of his pants to yank them down under his arse. 

Snape has had his time to cum and he chose how he did it without any input from him, so it's only fair he also gets to choose how he cums. He gathers spit in his mouth as he spreads one cheek before he spits over Snape's hole and starts to press a finger into him after rubbing it through his saliva. It's rough and dirty, but he's not too keen on trying to find something to use as lube; neither has he been very accomplished at conjuring lube while drunk. Saliva seems like the safer choice to a botched lubricating spell. He doesn't hate Snape that much to put him through that sort of pain and indignity. Snape curses and jolts under him. He holds him down with his body to keep him from trying to squirm away, "Be still." 

Another curse and Snape squeezes a hand under himself. Fingers brush against where his finger is buried inside his hole. There's indistinct muttering from Snape and just as Sirius is about to make a comment about him needing to speak up if he's trying to curse him he suddenly feels his finger slide fully into a slick, loosened channel compared to what he was pushing into before. He groans loudly against Snape's neck as he quickly pushes two, then three fingers into his arse to test the exact give of the muscle. 

Of course, the bastard would create a spell to make it more convenient for him to be fucked. Snape likely had to make it quick before someone could change their mind or come to their senses. He pulls his fingers out of his body before roughly working his pants open to take his cock out. The remnants of lube on his fingers is used to slick his cock before he's guiding the head to Snape's hole and doesn't even pause before pushing into his body until his hips press against the meat of his arse. 

A ragged gasp leaves Snape as his body bows up against his in reaction to being filled so suddenly. It's the first sound Snape has made all night that hasn't just been him breathing. It fills Sirius up with smug pride and it's what fuels the rolling motion of his hips as he starts to fuck into Snape's body with careless abandon. If Snape enjoys it, then he enjoys it. But Sirius isn't about to go out of his way to please him. His hands press on Snape's body to hold him down to the bed, so he can neither move into or away from his relentless thrusts. 

Sirius grunts and grits his teeth as he puts his entire body behind every thrust. The muscles of his thighs and arms start to strain under the abuse. But the small sounds of muffled moaning and groaning coming from Snape make him keep pushing forward without slowing. He wonders if he could make him cum again from just this, from just his cock up his arse. It's something he isn't likely to find out, though, because he's been teased for too long and is much too drunk to make this last long enough to see him cum twice. His thrusts grow erratic and he feels Snape's hips flexing up into some of his thrusts. It's all he needs to cum, biting down onto his covered shoulder with a rough groan as his hips stutter forward before grinding against him to drag out the aftermath of his orgasm. 

He breathes harshly through his nose as he lays flush against Snape's back. After a minute, when he starts to feel like he's lingered for too long, he eases back onto his knees. His cock slips out of Snape's arse and he winces at the sensitivity the chilled air causes his cum-slick cock. Awkwardly, he smacks Snape's arse as he shifts off the bed. "Who knew you were a decent fuck, eh, Snape?"

He tucks himself away as he walks to the desk that holds his jacket. Sirius drags it off the desk and accidentally makes Snape's follow suit to fall on the ground. Because he's feeling decent he picks the coat up and notices a folded piece of paper inside one pocket. Curious, he slips it out to open it. It's an obituary cut out from a newspaper. Tobias Snape. He snorts as he folds it up and puts it back into the coat. So, that's who Snape was drinking over. He thought he'd be happy he was gone if the rumors had any truth to them.

As he slips on his jacket he turns to face Snape. While he had been looking away he had dragged up his trousers. Sirius wonders if he even used a cleaning charm or if his cum is just slowly leaking out his arse to soak the seat of his pants. His eyes are closed and his face is flushed as he lays on his back. He looks lively enough that Sirius would be tempted to try to go again if he had any stamina left. 

Snape cracks an eye open, "Haven't you left, yet, Black? You're trespassing." 

For some reason the remark makes Sirius bark out a laugh as he heads towards the door. "A bit late to use that as an excuse, Princess." 

A glance back shows Snape scowling- no, a snarl twisting his lips as he sits up. His wand in his hand. Sirius ducks to avoid the curse thrown his way. A portion of the wall behind him crumbles. 

"Get out!"

Sirius laughs again, louder and sounding the smallest bit made like his cousin Bellatrix when she cackles. He runs down the stairs. Taking two, three steps at time until he's on the bottom landing and darting out the door directly in front of him. He wasn't about to wait to see if Snape was chasing after him. He runs and runs down the street and between houses. Once he can't tell where even _he_ is he figures it's as good a place as any to disapparate.


End file.
